Cupid Got It Wrong
by jaxink
Summary: Casey is having trouble with April. Donatello kindly offers to help, despite his own feelings for her. -references to Cyrano de Bergerac-
1. Don't Tell Me You Forgot

Disclaimer: I don't own TMNT…or _Cyrano de Bergerac_…oh but imagine if I did!

Note: 'Tis a love triangle, with a healthy sprinkling of parallels, references, and quotes from the incomparable play of _Cyrano de Bergerac_. Which as noted above, I do not own! If you're not familiar with the play or any of the movies based on it, fear not, things are pretty self-explanatory. But if you haven't read it or seen it -_gasp_- check it out!

Thanks to Mandy for beta reading this! (hands more cookies to Mandy) You rock, hun!

* * *

**Cupid Got It Wrong**

_Don't Tell Me You Forgot_

Leaping down from his room to the main floor of the lair, Raph landed gracefully into a crouched position. Straightening, he raised his arms over his head to stretch. With one more yawn, the red clad turtle murmured to himself, "I love naps. Almost as much as I love beatin' the snot out of Purple Dragon goons."

Glancing about and finding none of his brothers, but the TVs still flickered with life.

"Stupid, Mikey, never turnin' off the TVs. What a waste of energy—jeez, I sound like Leo," he grumbled making his way to the couch to find the remote.

However, a loud snort and garbled wheeze startled him. Lying face down on the couch, absently scratching his butt in his sleep, Casey Jones continued snoring as ESPN played on the screens. Raphael drew back a lip in disdain, annoyed by the vigilante's presence in their home. He thought Casey had left hours ago, like when he had gone to take his nap.

"What a bonehead," Raph muttered. Shrugging and vaulting himself over the couch, the hot-headed ninja landed forcefully on top of the human, sitting upon him with his full weight.

Considerably surprised, Casey shot up—or at least tried to, before realizing a turtle was sitting on him, crushing him with his shell. Chuckling at his friend's discomfort, Raph took pity on him and stood, but not before punching him in the shoulder. Protesting the abuse, Casey groaned.

"C'mon, Raph, why you gotta go hitting me? Can't a fella get a decent nap 'round here?"

"Yeah—at your place. What are you still doin' here?"

"Musta fallin' asleep. 'Sides, it's not that late—only what? 8:30?"

Raphael was about to answer, but Leo entered the lair and interrupted.

"Hey Raph, Casey…what's up?" he greeted.

Rolling his eyes, Raph said, "Just tryin' to get this leech to leave and go home."

"Actually, I'm surprised you're here, Casey," Leonardo commented, sitting on the floor in front of the TVs to stretch for a training session.

"Why's that, Leo?' Casey asked after cracking his neck and stifling a yawn.

"Just thought you would be out with April."

"April? I just saw her two days ago. We went to a wrestling match. It was awesome! And it's not like I need to spend so much time with her."

"She is your girlfriend, doofus," Raph reminded him, joining Leo in stretching.

"So?"

"Actually, Case, I thought you'd be with her tonight since it's Valentine's Day and all…" Leonardo said.

"—What? What's today?!" Casey yelled in alarm. He stood frantically, only to trip over the table.

Smacking his forehead, Raph moved to help the vigilante up, while muttering something about idiots and clumsiness. As Casey steadied himself, he shared a worried glance with his older brother. Leo repeated himself, "It's Valentine's Day."

"Oh crud."

"Case, please don't tell me you forgot about Valentine's Day."

"…"

Snorting, Raph resumed stretching and said, "Oh jeez, you did. You are seriously the king of morons."

"What am I gonna do? April's gonna kill me." He covered his face dejectedly with his hands.

Leo offered, "I suggest you go beg for forgiveness."

"And for mercy! She's gonna wail on you and—" Raph added gleefully.

"Not helping, bro," Leo interrupted.

"Heh, sorry Case."

Gathering up his coat, Casey moved to leave. "Gotta run, guys, I really screwed up big this time!"

Staring after the fleeing human, Raph turned to his brother. "So…think she'll forgive him?"

"Not a chance."

* * *

Above, at street-level, Donatello tinkered on the Battle Shell, trying to get the engine running more efficiently. The radio let out soft tones, a cassette playing—not music—but a recording of one of Don's favorite plays. As he did, the brainy turtle absently recited along with the lead, while continue to figure out the engine problem. 

"No, small, quite small—minute!" stuttered the Bore.

"Minute! What now? Accuse me of a thing ridiculous! Small—my nose?" Don and Cyrano asked.

The Bore pleaded, "Heaven help me!"

"'Tis enormous! Old Flathead, empty-headed meddler, know that I am proud possessing such appendice. 'Tis well known, a big nose is indicative of a soul affable, and kind, and courteous, liberal, brave, just like myself, and such as you can never dare to dream yourself, rascal contemptible! For that witless face that my hand soon will come to cuff—is all as empty…" Don had long stopped fixing the engine, waving his wrench at an unseen foe. He proceeded to cuff his imaginary opponent.

"Aie!" cried the Bore.

Don and Cyrano continued with, "—of pride, of aspiration, of feeling, poetry—of godlike spark of all that appertains to my big nose, as…what my boot will short come and kick!"

Breathing a bit heavily from the quick wordplay, Donatello chuckled as the cassette continued playing. He rubbed sweat from his brow and happened to glance into a mirror set up on his workbench. He sometimes used it to be able to see what his fingers were doing more closely when working on a tiny gadget.

The bo-wielding turtle's reflection stared back, a few splotches of grease on his face. His work goggles sat crooked upon his head, beads of sweat resting there as well. His mask tails looked a bit frayed, and there was certain darkness under his eyes—and of course, he had his beak protruding from his face like the bow of a ship. Alas, he and his brothers were cursed with the big nose of their turtle cousins and ancestors.

Sighing, he listened to Cyrano's witty remarks continue to sound in the warehouse from the radio. "I feel your pain, Cyrano. We both have less than aesthetically pleasing visages…wish I could make fun of myself like you do."

Don depressingly hit the stop button on the radio, stilling the sounds of the play. "Back to work," he muttered, and went to another corner of the warehouse searching for a spare part he needed.

As he did, the elevator emerged, letting Casey exit from within. He walked up to his parked bike, and he lifted up his helmet. Staring at it, his hands began to shake unsteadily; he threw it to the ground.

"Why am I such a bonehead?" he muttered in despair, dropping to the floor.

"Because you lack common sense," came a voice from behind him.

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Casey whipped around to see Donatello next to the Battle Shell, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Give a guy some warning, Don," Casey whined good-naturedly.

Snickering, Donnie put his hand on his hip and said, "Sorry, ninja, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah…"

"What's wrong, Case?" Donnie asked, taking off his goggles.

"I forgot it was Valentine's Day."

Don paused in his clean up efforts, before saying, "Ouch."

"Yeah, I wanna go apologize to April, but I'm afraid she won't even talk ta me."

"Well, you've made mistakes before, she'll forgive you," Donatello tried comforting, even though he didn't really believe the words himself.

"One too many mistakes. This really bites it."

"Bring her a gift."

"I'm no good at that kinda stuff. 'Sides, I bet every place is close by now."

"Casey, we live in New York. There's always someplace open."

"Still! Flowers and chocolate…that's too easy. April knows that! Heck, even I thought that! And she deserves better than that…"

"You say that, and yet you forgot Valentine's Day…"

"Oh, shove it, Don."

Ignoring that comment, the purple clad turtle suggested, "Why not recite something for her?"

Throwing his hands up in the air in frustration, Casey moaned. "Oh yeah? Like what? Hockey team stats? I don't know that girly junk."

"I'll have you know, Casey, poetry is not 'girly junk' as you so eloquently put it. It's an often lyrical and beautiful expression of thought and emotion."

Blinking dumbly at Donatello, he said, "Whatever! I still don't know nothin' about it."

"Then you should just speak from your heart."

"When I talk about my feelings, Donnie, all I do is trip over my words and somehow end up insulting April."

"Oh please, you can't be that bad," Don ventured.

Casey looked up at the turtle and raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Listen to this…on her birthday, I just wanted to say, 'Happy Birthday' and 'I love ya, babe!' But instead, I told her she had cake on her chest, then I ended up starin' at her chest! I'm tellin' ya, Don, I'm hopeless."

Donnie winced at Casey's lack of social skills and manners. Sighing heavily, the quiet turtle reflected on the situation. Here was the perfect opportunity to watch Casey fail and flounder in his and April's already tempestuous relationship. Here was the chance to stand back, watch it crash, burn, and evaporate. But Donatello wasn't cruel, nor was he heartless to Casey's plight. He was still his friend. And April liked him, for whatever reason, she cared about the vigilante in that special way.

If only she could see him that way! He stated at his reflection in Casey's helmet visor sitting on the seat of the bike. Fingering his large beak, he once more scrutinized his green, mutated appearance. Don wasn't stupid—far from it. Only in his fantasies would April ever reciprocate his tender feelings for her. Just like Cyrano pining after the beautiful Roxane, only to lose her to the dashing, but slightly slow Christian. Or in this case, Casey Jones. Donatello knew what he had to do—his only choice was to help a friend in need, if only to make April happy.

"Case, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm going to help you."

Perking up, Casey said, "Really? You'd do that for me, Don?"

"Yeah…"

Jumping up from the warehouse floor, Casey swept Don up in a crushing hug. "Thanks, Donnie! You're the best!"

"Can't breathe, you maniac! Let me go!" Able to properly breathe once released, Donatello continued, "Well, let's get going before April decides to pretend you never existed."

"You're right! Let's go! Goongala!" Casey jumped on his bike and started it up, excited at this chance to woo April and get back into her good graces.

Walking over to his workbench to grab his helmet and a leather jacket, Don miserably muttered, "Yeah, woohoo…goongala…" He put on the protective wear and hopped on behind Casey. And with that, they sped off to the 2nd Time Around.

* * *

A/N: Hehe...this is my first romance story...feels strange writing it. Hopefully it will unfold as I envision it... Ja ne! 


	2. Winning the Fair Lady's Heart

Disclaimer: I don't own TMNT…or _Cyrano de Bergerac_…oh but imagine if I did!

Note: 'Tis a love triangle, with a healthy sprinkling of parallels, references, and quotes from the incomparable play of _Cyrano de Bergerac_. Which as noted above, I do not own! If you're not familiar with the play or any of the movies based on it, fear not, things are pretty self-explanatory. But if you haven't read it or seen it -gasp- check it out!

* * *

**Cupid Got It Wrong**

_Winning the Fair Lady's Heart_

The roar of the motorcycle died as Casey pulled the key out of the ignition. He removed his helmet and shook his long hair out, locks falling loosely to brush against his shoulders. Don observed this with a sigh of envy, rubbing his hand over his bare head after taking off his own helmet. They both got off of the bike and walked to the side door in the alleyway. The purple clad turtle's heart dropped further as Casey pulled out a key to unlock the door.

'He has keys to April's place? Ugh, they're more serious than I thought,' thought Donnie dejectedly.

He cleared his throat and asked nonchalantly, "So, how long have you had keys?"

"Only a few weeks now," Casey replied as they shut the door behind them. "But she's probably gonna get the locks changed now with this goof I made."

Inwardly, such a prospect made Donatello feel a little bit better. They entered the shop, casually glancing at the shadows cast on the walls of junk and antiques littered about on display. Heading upstairs, Don stopped and tried to assess how much damage control they would have to do.

"What's the plan?" Casey inquired, rubbing his hands together.

"I'm working on it."

"You don't have a plan?"

"Hey, I'm here to help you, remember? Unless you'd like to handle this on your own…" Don said, turning to leave, but a hand shot out to restrain him.

Casey dropped to his knees and groveled. "No! Please, Don, help a buddy out?"

Rolling his eyes, Donnie pulled him up off his knees. "Stop it, Case. Save the begging for April—which is what I suggest you do first. Go apologize, and we'll go from there."

"What if she won't listen?" Casey said, resisting the turtle's shove, pushing him toward the apartment door.

"April has a very forgiving nature. She'll hear you out."

"Maybe she forgives you for stuff! You guys are geeky science buddies with all your alien nerd-speak. With me, all she does is remind me about all the stupid stuff I do."

"I wouldn't start out by calling her a nerd," Don said dryly. "Nor do I appreciate the comment. Now then, good luck!"

Donatello knocked on the door, bolted out the nearby window, and left a dumbfounded Casey in his wake. The vigilante stared after him blankly and startled when the door whipped open. April stood in the doorway with a towel wrapped around her and a stern look on her face, arms abrasively crossed. After her apparent boyfriend never called or came to her apartment to surprise her with something for Valentine's Day, she gave up after waiting hour upon hour and took a shower to prepare for bed.

"This should be good…what do you want, Jones?"

Casey nervously ran his fingers through his hair, and began to stutter. "I-I, uh, I, er—"

The red head began tapping her foot impatiently waiting to hear something coherent. Quite anxious, Casey glanced back toward the window for help, but found no turtle staring back. Darn ninja…

"I, uh…"

"Yes, Casey?"

"I…"

"Well, spit it out!"

Put on the spot and incredibly flustered at this point, Casey blurted, "You look hot in a towel!"

Fuming, one eye twitching in irritation, April slammed the door shut. Awakened from his panic-induced stupor, Casey finally began speaking actual words. "Aw, April, babe, c'mon! I'm sorry. I didn't mean ta say that! Babe? I'm sorry I forgot Valentine's Day."

He continued to fruitlessly knock on the door and mumble apologies. Don had watched and listened to the disaster from the fire escape. A small, selfish part of him was filled with delightful, malicious glee that the vigilante was failing! However, he couldn't let the poor man continue to embarrass himself. Raph was absolutely right—Casey was a bonehead.

He climbed through the window and pulled Casey away from the door. Donatello solemnly shook his head and motioned for the vigilante to follow him. They returned outside to regroup.

"Don, that was terrible! I told you I can't talk about my feelings. Stupid stuff always comes out!"

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Donnie absently nodded in agreement. "You have to prove to her you care—in a sincere manner. You have to really show her that she's special to you."

"How can I do that when she won't even talk ta me?"

"I guess you'll have to get her attention."

"How?"

"I don't know! Give me a few minutes to think."

As Donnie tried to plan out a course of action, Casey began to pace. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Sigh. Back and forth. Don glared at him, and he sheepishly shrugged. Then, as if by a miracle (because really, that's the only way it could ever happen), Casey had an epiphany.

"Hey Don! What about the girly junk you were talkin' about at the warehouse? Poetry!"

"I thought you said you didn't know anything about poetry?" Don asked skeptically.

Casey nodded. "I don't. But you do. I'm okay at rememberin' stuff. Teach me a poem or somethin'. Tell me what to say!"

The turtle frowned. "Oh fine. Listen closely."

Donatello taught him a simple phrase, one from Cyrano, no less. Casey repeated it back to him a few times until he was satisfied with his delivery.

"Okay, good," Donnie commended him. "Now all we need to do is get April to listen to you."

"How are we gonna do that?"

"I've got an idea."

* * *

Donatello and Casey climbed the fire escape on the side of April's building, going past the window where Don had earlier observed the unfolding interactions. They stopped at a window that went directly into April's apartment. 

Whispering, Don said, "Alright, here's the plan. Tap on the window. Once she opens it, say the line, apologize, and say you'll make it up to her. Not too hard, right?"

"Piece of cake. Where you gonna go?" Casey asked, getting nervous again.

"I'll go down the stairs a bit and stay pressed against the building. She won't be able to see me. Now let's do this. It's cold out here, and one of us doesn't have any clothes on," Donnie commented with a shiver.

Nodding, Casey turned to knock on the window, while Donnie scaled his way down the fire escape stairs to his hiding place to wait in silence.

Still knocking on the glass, Casey pleaded, "April, please open the window? C'mon! Just let me apologize!"

Now in a pair of soft, satin pajamas, her wet hair framing her pale face, April appeared at the window. She looked understandably pissed. Hesitating, she finally opened the window and put her hands on her hips.

"What, Casey?"

Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, Casey swallowed uncomfortably. "Uh, I—"

"Not this again. If that's it Casey Jones, then we're through."

From below him, Don sharply hissed, "Say the line, Case!"

Quite unsteadily, Casey said, "Uh, 'A kiss is a rosy dot over the 'i' of loving.'"

Blinking owlishly, April let out a gasp of surprise. "Casey…wow, that's so sweet. But that doesn't excuse your behavior."

Seeing he was making progress, Casey soldiered on. "I know, April. I'm real sorry I let you down. I do care about you. A lot."

"I don't know, Casey. Sometimes you don't seem very genuine or open about your feelings. And I didn't know you even read poetic kind of stuff. Say something else for me? And maybe I'll consider forgiving you…"

"Um, sure, babe! I've got a ton of those lines."

Donnie slapped his forehead and let out a sigh of frustration. They were doomed.

"I love you," Casey proclaimed.

Unimpressed, April frowned. "You'll have to do better than that."

"I love you this much," the vigilante restated, holding his arms out wide.

"Honestly, Casey, if that's all you have to say to me after—"

"I love you more than hockey! More than beating up Purple Dragons!"

"How about more than your bike?"

"…"

Scowling, April punched her former boyfriend in the nose and moved to close the window. It slid shut with a click, and she walked to the couch to watch TV.

Cursing, Casey clutched his nose in pain. He called out, sounding as if his nose was plugged. "April, wait!" Officially freaking out, Casey ran down the stairs and faced Donatello in the shadows. "Help me, Donnie! I'm losin' her!"

"What do you want me to do? Recite poetry for you?" Don said sarcastically, waving his arms in the air.

Casey paused. "Yeah! That's a great idea!"

"No, it's a stupid idea. I was joking. And don't you think she would notice your lips moving and no sound coming out? Or the sound of your voice suddenly changing?"

"I can come further down the fire escape. It's dark enough she can't see my face from this far. And she did just punch me in the nose! You can say it changed the sound of my voice, just don't use your voice. Deepen it or something!"

"No, I won't do it."

"Don, please, I'm beggin' ya."

Dropping his head in defeat, Donnie rubbed his temples. He felt a headache coming on. "Fine. Get her attention."

Eyes lighting up, Casey took some loose change from his pocket and began throwing them at the window. A few minutes passed before April reappeared and stuck her head out the window.

"Casey, leave me alone! Stop throwing stuff at my window or I will call the cops!" she shouted.

Drawing from the words of his very relatable companion Cyrano, Don spoke to her from the shadows, pressed tightly against the bricks of the building. They truly were alike, just like when Cyrano spoke of love to Roxane, pretending to be Christian, hiding beneath her balcony, so the fool could win her heart. For the beautiful Roxane could never love a man with such a large nose, and the vibrant April could never love a turtle, mutant or otherwise.

"Stay awhile! 'Tis sweet, the rare occasion, when our hearts can speak—our selves unseen, unseeing! (1)" Don called out, deepening his voice to try and disguise it.

Surprised again for the second time that evening, April listened to the eloquent speech. "Casey?"

"Yes, fair lady, 'tis I to beg your forgiveness. For I fear losing your heart."

"Why are you talking like that? And what happened to your voice?"

"You asked that I dote such sweet words upon you, did you not? And not long before, your hand delivered a well-placed, and well-deserved, strike to my nose, thus my voice may sound strange to your ears."

"Oh…well, if you're going to try and do this again, at least come up here where I can see you better."

"No! I…I do not deserve to look upon your face while I am so shamed. It is better this way," Don said. He continued to recite the flowing words of Cyrano. "Ay, it is sweet! Half hidden,—half revealed—you see the dark folds of my shrouding cloak, and I, the glimmering whiteness of your dress: I but a shadow—you a radiance fair! Know you what such a moment holds for me?"

Blushing, April conceded. "Have it your way…but please, continue what you were saying before…"

Smiling to himself, Donatello went on. "If, leaving Cupid's arrows, quivers, torches, we turned to seek for sweeter—fresher things! Instead of sipping in a pygmy glass, dull fashionable waters,—did we try. How the soul slakes its thirst in fearless draught, by drinking from the river's flooding brim! I fear lest, 'midst the alchemy we're skilled in. The truth of sentiment dissolve and vanish,—the soul exhausted by these empty pastimes, the gain of fine things be the loss of all things! (2)"

"Wow…" April breathlessly murmured, hand over her heart. "That was beautiful. Where did you learn that?"

Struggling to come up with a lie, Don was interrupted by Casey. "I learned it special, for you, babe. Been memorizin' it the last few weeks."

Donatello cast a glare at his companion, but Casey was too absorbed with staring at April above.

"That's very sweet and thoughtful, Casey. So unlike you, but…still, very sweet. Come up here for a kiss," April beckoned, holding her hand out.

Quickly, Casey flashed Don a thumbs up and a smile, before racing up the stairs to the window. Once they were occupied with one another, Donnie took his first chance to get away from the fire escape. He silently bounded down the ladder and landed gracefully on the ground in the alleyway. Upset by the situation, he clenched his hands into tight fists. That should have been a kiss for him! They were words declaring a desperate love—words that meant so much to Donatello, and so little to Casey.

"I bet he didn't understand a word of what I said to her," Don muttered. Inwardly, he felt his heart breaking slowly. He had spoken to April with such care and adoration, meaning every word that passed over his lips.

Glancing back toward the fire escape, he had a feeling Casey wouldn't be coming down to give him a ride back to the lair. Despairingly, the quiet turtle faded into the shadows to run home. Run home and not look back. Because if he did, his heart just might shatter at the sight of Casey and April sharing a loving embrace.

* * *

A/N: The (1) and (2) are quotes taken from _Cyrano de Bergerac_—I just wanted to distinguish what words were not my own. Also, not beta'd, so please forgive any mistakes (feel free to point them out, too!). Hope you're enjoying it thus far… Ja ne! 


	3. Keeping Up Appearances

Disclaimer: I don't own TMNT…or _Cyrano de Bergerac_.

Note: 'Tis a love triangle, with a healthy sprinkling of parallels, references, and quotes from the incomparable play of _Cyrano de Bergerac_. Which as noted above, I do not own! If you're not familiar with the play or any of the movies based on it, fear not, things are pretty self-explanatory. But if you haven't read it or seen it, you should check it out.

* * *

**Cupid Got It Wrong**

_Keeping Up Appearances_

April found herself very content the day after Valentine's Day, reassured that she wasn't crazy for staying with a vigilante that loved his motorcycle and had an unhealthy obsession with hockey masks. With his surprise of eloquent words and emotional, poetic poise, Casey had reasserted himself as more than a dolt. She was willing to be flexible to his wants and needs—so long as he did the same for her. They weren't perfect, to be sure, but he always tried so damn hard. It was worth a committed effort.

Casey, utterly pleased with himself for his brilliant performance the night before, had been treated to kisses and cuddles at April's apartment. They fell asleep together on the couch watching a movie. In the morning, they parted ways with a sweet, chaste kiss. He went back to his apartment on his bike with a light skip in his heartbeat. He was about 83 percent sure he was in love with April, and he would be a fool to let her go. Last night, Casey proved to himself that he would go to _any_ length to keep her affections, even if it had involved reciting that stupid, ancient poetry. Okay, okay, so Donnie recited most of it, but Casey certainly pulled it off.

Freezing at a stoplight, oblivious to the honking cars going around him, Casey realized with a guilty pang he had forgotten to thank the bo-wielding turtle for his help. Shrugging, Casey figured he would see him sooner or later and could properly thank him then. Besides, Don was always helping people.

To keep up appearances, Casey came up with an ingenious plan all on his own. He would treat April to a sophisticated evening on the town and go to places she enjoyed boring him with during their conversations. That would show her how suave, debonair, and charming he could be!

* * *

Mikey yawned, wandering into the main part of the lair after jumping down easily from his room. He spent the entire morning reading comic books in his room—now he was looking for a little bit more active entertainment.

"Raph?" he called, hoping his brother might like to go for a run. His voice echoed through the lair. Empty silence met his call. "Leo? Where you guys at? Anyone wanna spar or something? Hellooo?" He continued to call while spinning in circles.

"They're not here, Mikey." The even tone startled the twirling turtle sending him sprawling onto the floor. An olive green hand reached out to help him up.

"Jeez, Donnie—give a turtle some warning."

Chuckling, Don picked up the parts he had retrieved from the warehouse and placed them at his workstation.

"Where are they?" Michelangelo inquired, allowing his eyes to slide over the elaborate blueprints on the computer screen. He tried to suppress his need to touch some of the shiny objects before him.

"They went to check out some supposed Purple Dragon activity down by the docks from a lead Raph got on patrol last night. They said they would call if they need help, but they're only there for a quick reconnaissance."

"Oh, and I guess you're kinda busy, huh?"

"Well, yes, but you can help me if you like."

"Sure, bro!"

"Great, hand me those pliers please," Donatello instructed.

Mikey complied with his request. "So, where'd you go last night? We missed you at practice."

"I told Casey I would help him smooth things over with April."

"Dude! Raph told me how the bonehead tanked and forgot Valentine's Day. He come up with anything?"

"No. When he tried to apologize, he behaved moronically and made it worse. She slammed the door in his face."

Mikey snorted. "Haha! And Jones says he's such a ladies man. What a joke. What'd you do?"

"I pretended to be Casey on the fire escape and recited lines from that play I like. April liked it, and Casey was allowed inside. Give me a screwdriver."

"She actually bought that? C'mon, Donnie—we all know Space Case doesn't know a thing about romance. I didn't even think a genius like you could save his butt."

"Well, for whatever reason, it convinced her, and she didn't realize it was me—so that's that. Let's not talk about it anymore. No, Mikey—a screwdriver, not a hammer."

Smiling sheepishly, Mike reached for a screwdriver. "Sorry, Donnie. I was distracted."

Donatello just nodded and continued with his work. His younger brother took note of the frown on his face. "You okay? Wanna talk about something?"

Shaking his head, Don closed the open plating on the device in front of him. "No thanks. I appreciate the offer, but it's nothing. Now let's go try this out."

"What is it?"

"A new turbo booster for the Sewer Slider. Three times the power."

Pumping his fist in the air, Mikey shouted, "Oooo, yeah!"

Laughing all the way out of the lair, Donnie allowed his excitable brother to drag him away from his melancholic thoughts—at least for a while.

* * *

Casey took April to a Broadway show on Sunday afternoon, and afterward, took her to dinner at a classy restaurant he found in Manhattan. He pulled out her chair, opened the taxi door (it wouldn't do to take his bike with her hair done all nicely and wrinkle that pretty dress), listened attentively, and complimented any and all of her features _above_ her neckline. He congratulated himself on a job well done. Casey was quite positive that would be enough to satisfy April's fancy needs for some time.

However, he was disappointed when April dragged him to the Met on Wednesday. To a book lecture at the store down the street on Friday. To a string quartet performance. To an indoor art festival on Saturday. To the ballet on Monday. And now, on Thursday, they sat in an old theater for a classic, black and white movie marathon.

Tugging at the tight collar of a dress shirt underneath a red sweater April had purchased for him, Casey let out his seventh sigh of boredom in the last 22 minutes. Irritated, April elbowed him. "What's the matter with you?"

"I don't wanna be here, babe. It's torture."

"Casey, this is art."

"Fine, it's boring art."

Lightly grasping his arm, she led him into the lobby of the theater. "I don't understand, Casey. Last week you were so passionate about art and poetry, and now, you'd rather hop on your bike and cruise to every bar on the block!"

"'Course, I do! I don't wanna do this artsy crap all the time. I feel like we've done nothing else."

"Every time I've asked you if you want to go to these things, you just say, 'Yeah, sure. Anything you want.' I thought we were here because you wanted to be, too."

"But you like all this fancy junk."

"Sometimes I do, but we don't have to this all the time. All you have to say is, 'April, let's go grab a burger and shoot some pool tonight.'"

"Really? But what about this stuff?"

"it's nice sometimes, but we don't have to go to the opera or a museum to have a deep, meaningful relationship, Casey."

The vigilante frowned, looking at his shiny shoes, contemplating how to respond. Should he tell her the truth? Or should he continue pretending so he could keep her convinced he possessed an intellectual affluence?

Taking her hand, Casey brushed his thumb over her knuckles. "April, I get what you're sayin', but the thing is, I don't know what you're talking about most of the time. I just agree with what you say to impress you."

"But on Valentine's Day you—"

"No, that wasn't me. When I messed up real bad and forgot we had plans, I was desperate. I asked Donnie for help."

April's breath stopped short. "What? Donatello?"

"Yeah, he helped me out big time. Those words I was sayin' on the fire escape…it was really Donnie saying lines from that play he likes. The one with the sword fights and guy with the big nose."

"Cyrano?"

"I think so. You didn't notice, and I pulled it off, so I didn't say nothin'. I'm sorry, April."

"So everything I heard that night—for the most part—was Don?"

"Yup. I'm sure you're probably real mad, babe."

"Well, yes and no. I'm disappointed, Casey—that you would feel as if you needed to lie to impress me. I don't want you to be anyone but you."

"Really? That's great…I—"

"But I also realize neither of us is really happy, even with a little compromise. Casey, I think we both know this relationship was doomed before it even began. We're too different."

"I thought opposites attract or somethin'?"

Softly smiling, April tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. "Sometimes, but not always."

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Casey shook his head. "I guess you're right. You deserve better, April—someone who'll understand you—all of you."

"Thanks, Casey. You too."

"So, is this it?" he asked gently.

"I think so…"

* * *

A/N: So, the time of year reminded me that this story was still unfinished. This story only has one chapter left! Also, this chapter wasn't beta'd, so feel free to point out any mistakes. Thanks!


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